


Sun, Sand, Surf, and Some Other Things That Start With ‘S’

by the_genderman



Series: Semi-Canon Freebird-Verse [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sam Wilson, Day At The Beach, Hotel Sex, M/M, Sam Wilson Can Talk to Birds, Top Steve Rogers, Vacation, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Sam and Steve take a well-earned beach vacation which keeps getting spoiled by weather, until it doesn't, but then they end up back at their hotel anyway.





	Sun, Sand, Surf, and Some Other Things That Start With ‘S’

“No cell phones, no computers, no responsibilities for a whole week,” Sam said, half to himself, as he unpacked the last of his clothes, tucking his swim trunks into the drawer. “I think the team can handle themselves for a week without us.”

Steve turned his head, still standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window with its ocean view. “They’ll be fine,” he reassured. “And if there’s an emergency and they really need us, Redwing knows where to find us.”

“Here’s hoping Redwing gets his vacation, too,” Sam said, straightening up and stretching his back. Hotel dressers were always so short, even at the fancy expensive places. “I am more than ready for some sun, sand, and surf.”

“And maybe some other things that start with ‘S’?” Steve grinned, walking over behind Sam and leaning his chin onto his shoulder. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Sam replied, turning his head slightly to give Steve a smile. “Starting with ‘seafood’ because it’s dinnertime and I am ready to eat. How about you pull those curtains so we can change into something more dinner-appropriate?”

\----------------------------

The first full day of vacation saw Sam and Steve on the beach first thing in the morning. A sunrise seaside run which was interrupted by a sudden downpour, sending them scurrying back to their hotel room to dry off. Steve paced the room as Sam broke his “no cell phones” promise and checked the local weather forecast. Rain all day. Ok, switch the museum day with the coastal cruise and hope the weather got better. They returned to their hotel that night tired and all museumed out, having packed in as much as they could while they had the chance. Sam had barely gotten into his pajamas before collapsing into bed. Steve tidied up the room a bit and climbed into bed after him. No point in trying to do anything but sleep tonight.

Day two was overcast, but no rain in the forecast. Still not the best day for the beach or a cruise, so Steve suggested a hike while the sun wasn’t directly on them. Sam found a promising-looking park in the tourism guide, double checked it online, and dug his binoculars out of the drawer. If they hurried out, they’d still be able to get there early enough for peak birding. Birds in the morning, catch a quick lunch somewhere, and after a bit of a rest, hike back. One the return hike they had nearly made it back to their rental car when Steve slipped on a pebble, dropping him onto his butt. He’d be fine with some rest, but in the meantime, his tailbone was pretty sore. They ordered room service for dinner and a movie for their evening’s entertainment.

The sun began to peek out again on day three, making the water sparkle. Steve made their cruise reservations and Sam made their lunch and dinner plans. The weather report that evening finally gave good news, uninterrupted sun—perfect beach weather—for the rest of the week. Of course, that’s what the weather report had said right before they had left the Avengers’ compound. Steve remained skeptical. Sam insisted on hitting a grocery store and putting together a light, non-perishable beach lunch. If they finally did get their beach day, then he wasn’t planning on leaving to eat. He was going to sun until he was too hot, retreat to the water to cool off, then once he was chilled from the ocean, return to his beach towel. Lather, rinse, repeat. Sam was too excited to do more than a little hard-core cuddling that night. (Steve, too, if you could get him to admit it.)

Day four dawned bright and hopeful. Neither the Weather Channel’s ‘Local on the 8’s’ nor any of the local sources were predicting rain. Sam turned his phone off and plugged it in to charge. Steve sunscreened himself in front of the bathroom mirror. Sam stood in front of his open drawer, deciding whether his plain red trunks were a safer bet or if he should try to embarrass Steve in public with the brand-new American flag Speedo he had picked out in secret at one of the tourist traps they had hit earlier in the week and washed in the sink last night. After a moment’s hesitation, he sighed and put the Speedo away and closed the drawer. If Steve spent all day turning pink whenever he got a glimpse of Sam’s butt in that Speedo, they’d never be able to tell if he was getting sunburnt or not. The burn itself would heal quickly enough, but tan lines persisted. Sam packed the lunches in their beach bag which had sat untouched since day one. Steve put their drinks in the cooler and filled it at their floor’s ice machine. One last check and they headed out.

Finally, the beach. Their fellow tourists were out in numbers, given the poor weather prior, so it took a little more time than Sam and Steve had hoped to stake out a claim of their own. They finally found a somewhat isolated spot a good hike away from the parking lot. They cleared some driftwood, accidentally spooked a sandpiper, and decided that this was as good a spot as anywhere. They lay out their towels, Steve planted his rented beach umbrella, and they stripped down to their swimsuits. Sam stretched out on his towel, sunglasses on and hands behind his head.

After a few minutes Steve gently poked Sam in the shoulder. “You awake?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

“I’m gonna go down to the water, maaayyybe build a sandcastle when I’m done swimming,” Steve said, a smile in his voice.

“Oh, are you?” Sam replied, lifting his sunglasses.

“Yeah, I’m gonna give it seashell windows if I can find enough good ones. Never too old to build sandcastles at the beach, I say.”

\------------

“We passed an ice cream stand about half a mile back, didn’t we?” Steve asked, packing the remnants of their lunch back into the beach-bag. They’d find a trash can on the way back to the parking lot or, failing that, take it back to the hotel.

“Yeah, I think so. You want to pack up and take the towels and umbrella with us or hope no one wanders down here and steals our stuff while we’re away?” Sam said, sitting up and putting his flip-flops back on.

“Depends. Do you want to come back here and lie around in the sun for a bit longer or do you want to head back to the hotel and work up an appetite for dinner?” Steve asked, quirking his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam’s stomach gave a very pleasant flip. He closed his eyes and thought about the seaweed he had stepped on an hour ago. Libido sufficiently doused for the moment, he looked at his wrist where he was definitely not wearing a watch. “I’d say we’ve got about a couple hours before we reach critical mass, so let’s pack up. And I know you like your ice cream, but I don’t want you eating so much that you have to lie down when we get back to our room.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said, leaning in for a kiss.

\------------

Steve and Sam strolled back up the beach in the direction of the ice cream stand, watching the gulls squawking and wheeling overhead, pattering along the surf-line, or just standing, staring, and judging. The way gulls do.

“I meant to ask earlier. What kind of gulls are those?” Steve asked, pointing at an almost delicate-looking gull with a black head, broken white eye-ring, and a red bill. “They don’t look like the kind we get back home.”

“Yeah, we get a lot of Herring Gulls back in New York. White head, yellow bill with a red spot. These little guys are Laughing Gulls,” Sam explained.

“I love how you know all these things,” Steve said, pulling Sam into a quick one-armed embrace as they kept walking.

\------------

The ice cream stand wasn’t much more than a Quonset hut, but they had a decent menu of beach-friendly treats. Hot dogs, fries, kettle chips, and of course, ice cream. Three separate soft-serve machines, adding strawberry, orange creamsicle, ‘blue,’ and, oddly enough, peanut butter, to the usual chocolate and vanilla. Sam got a chocolate-vanilla swirl. Steve opted for ‘blue.’

“So what flavor is ‘blue’?” Sam laughed, licking the swirl off the top of his cone. They sat down on opposite sides of a slightly too sandy picnic table.

Steve took a big bite out of the top of his ice cream (Sam cringed, his teeth feeling sympathy-pain), savored it for a moment, and then answered. “Kinda like cotton candy? Maybe? Honestly, it just tastes ‘blue’.”

“Could I try it?” Sam asked tentatively.

“Sure,” Steve replied, holding out his cone across the table. A gull promptly swooped down and grabbed Steve’s ice cream, taking advantage of his surprise to pull the cone out of his hands. It landed about a foot away from both of them and dropped the melting blue lump onto the table, pecking at the cone half-heartedly. It looked up at Sam’s ice cream and cocked its head curiously.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Sam said, pointing a finger at the gull.

“Wark?” Said the gull, cocking its head in the other direction.

“You picked the blue one, don’t tell me you don’t like it and try to get some of mine,” Sam told the gull.

The gull gave a quiet, somehow disgruntled-sounding “Aag,” picked up the remains of the cone, and flapped off.

“Since when can you talk to birds?” Steve laughed.

“Oh, just one of my many natural talents,” Sam laughed back. “Nah, I’m kidding. I just got lucky.”

Sam turned back to his ice cream, which had gone quite soft in the sun and was dripping down the side of the cone and onto his hand. “You got a napkin?” he asked Steve.

“No, but I could lick it off,” Steve said quietly, changing the subject a little.

“As much as I’d love to say yes, we’re still in public. Wait until we get back to the hotel,” Sam said, slipping his flip-flop off and rubbing his foot against Steve’s leg under the table.

Steve swallowed, held up one finger in a gesture of ‘give me a moment,’ and, in a moment, proceeded to get Sam some napkins and a cup of water to rinse his fingers off.

\--------------------------------

When they finally made it back to their hotel room, Steve tossed the beach bag haphazardly into the half-closet. Sam moved the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign to the outside door handle and upon pulling the door shut, flipped the swing lock for extra privacy.

“You’ve got everything we need, right?” Steve asked, his voice a little muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Of course I do,” Sam said, getting his toiletries bag and pulling out a condom and a travel-sized bottle of lube. “But first, we’re both going to shower. There is no reason for us to be getting sand where it really shouldn’t be.”

“May I join you?” Steve asked.

“I’d love to say yes,” Sam answered, “but you know how hotel bathtubs are: no grip whatsoever on the so-called non-slip parts. I’d prefer not to end up with a concussion from poorly planned shower sex.”

“That’s fair,” Steve said. “I’ll let you go first.”

\--------

Freshly showered and dried, Sam flopped down on his back onto the hotel bed and unwrapped the towel from his waist. Might as well leave it down. Even if they were using a condom, the less mess they made on the hotel sheets the better. Sam smiled as he heard the water start, and with it, Steve’s attempt at quiet shower singing. Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him he wasn’t actually as quiet as he thought he was. He rolled onto his side, grabbed the lube from the bedside table, and began to work himself open. As much as he liked to watch Steve’s face as Steve watched _him_ , right now he just wanted to start things as quickly as possible. There was only so much waiting a man could take.

Steve emerged from the bathroom and strode purposefully over to the bed where Sam was still knuckles-deep inside himself. Steve’s dick twitched appreciatively.

Steve hummed, his face breaking into a broad smile. “Have I ever told you how good you look like that?”

“Only every time,” Sam grinned in reply. He pulled his fingers slowly out and rolled onto his back, keeping eye contact with Steve as he did.

“Well, it’s true.” Steve climbed onto the bed and, getting down on all fours, crawled over to Sam. Sam wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, gently pulling him closer. Steve dropped to his elbows and kissed Sam hungrily. Sam ran the fingers of one hand through Steve’s hair. The other flitted down Steve’s stomach making him gasp and shudder.

They finally parted, coming up for air, Steve sporting an impressive blush. Sometimes Sam wondered if it was the serum that made it so that Steve had enough blood in him to sustain an erection and an almost full-body sex-flush. Steve reached over for the condom and lube. As Steve rolled the condom on and slicked himself up, Sam’s hands found their way to his chest, tracing ever-smaller circles until his fingers were on his nipples. He pinched hard and tugged, giving an open-mouthed moan that was as much for Steve’s benefit as it was about his own enjoyment. 

Steve let out a low growl of appreciation. “You want it rough today? Is that what you’re telling me? You want me to fuck you ‘til you see stars? Or do you want it to be nice and long and slow with my dick in your ass, keeping you full, my hand stroking you so softly, just building and building until the lightest touch brings you over?”

“I want it where you stop teasing me and get in me already. I love you, but sometimes you talk too much.”

“So, rough?”

“Oh yeah.”

Steve squeezed some more lube onto his fingers. He reached down, pushing the lube into Sam, and, lining himself up, replaced his fingers with his dick. He leaned in hard, bottoming out only to immediately pull back and thrust in again. Sam gasped, pressing the fingers of one hand into Steve’s broad back, his other hand wrapping around his dick.

“You like this, Sammy?” Steve murmured, his voice low and warm. “You need this? You need me? You feel so good. Do I make you feel as good as you make me feel?”

Sam just moaned louder as Steve’s dick dragged eagerly over his prostate, the sensation complimented by his own fingers sliding over the head of his dick. He gripped Steve’s waist tighter with his thighs and, panting, chin to chest, arching forward as best he could underneath Steve, came with a half-strangled-sounding gasp. He flopped bonelessly back onto the mattress, legs still hooked around Steve by virtue only of his crossed ankles.

Steve gave a couple more shallow thrusts before he came, too, collapsing gently on top of Sam.

“Oh, I needed that,” Sam said, his voice still a little fuzzy with his afterglow.

“Me too,” Steve said, kissing Sam’s cheek before pulling out and rolling off of him. “I also think I’m gonna need another shower after that. I sweated too much for it to be polite for us to go out to dinner without showering again.”

“You go do that, but I’m gonna need at least an hour to lie here before I can even think about dinner,” Sam replied.

“Sure thing. I’ll get you cleaned up and tucked in, then I’ll go get fresh towels so you don’t have to use our old, wet ones when you shower later.”

“You spoil me,” Sam smiled.

“Of course I do. You deserve it,” Steve smiled back.


End file.
